


Godsend

by Dorylus



Category: Bastion (Video Game)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Multiple Endings, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21987415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorylus/pseuds/Dorylus
Summary: Perhaps the Gods have regrets for what they have sown in the world of mortals.Two short stories about a small group of Caelondians and Ura bound by tragedy. Given a choice of two wildly divergent futures, perhaps either path can lead to happiness.
Relationships: The Kid/Zia (Bastion), Zulf/Zulf's Fiancé (Bastion)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Restoration

"There's one big problem with a thing that sets things back to a bygone time; you can't test it. So you're probably wondering, if the Calamity happened already, what's to stop it happening again after the Bastion does it's thing? The answer is...I don't know."

-Rucks, on restoration.

* * *

Caelondians believed that time wasn't a complicated affair. The pantheon set things in motion with a little preliminary intervention, and the fabric of the future was woven in a manner like dominoes falling. It made sense to them, since they never found a way to resist the tide of time. Attempting to imitate Olak was useless in this regard. A few academic types mulled the subject over, but it otherwise never came up.

The answers, buried along with everything else that the great city of Caelondia needed to support it's construction, were in Burstone Quarry. The cores, made of minerals that were otherwise ordinary, glowed in the dark and carried imprints of memories from the surrounding landscape. The Mancers came to theorise that the energy produced by the cores was the result of resonance between these captive memories and the real world. This theory wouldn't gain much traction - it couldn't be tested, so scientifically speaking it was useless.

The Ura who sold the place said that it was cursed, and many of the miners and Marshals sent to exterminate the rattletails were inclined to agree. A few of them that had been manning their stations the longest reported that they could hear voices when they stood near the cores, most vague and incomprehensible but a few offering hints that they came from the completed city of Caelondia. They could only come from the future. The stigma of being labelled mentally ill prevented the workers from trying to properly convince their sceptical hierarchs due to ridicule, or fear of ridicule, from the people.

Following the disaster of the Mancer's secret project, Rucks contemplated whether the memory of the shards and cores could withstand the change of the world - perhaps offer a cosmic reset button. This was his motivation to empower the Bastion: There was precious little to lose in carrying out the plan, and everything to gain.

The Kid followed along with the weary old man's wishes in throwing the level. He had chosen Restoration. Kid didn't have the best time - none of the people who came to be survivors did - but he had built up the resolve needed to take it on again. The Kid would be taking a chance either way, and the homeward path beckoned him sweetly. Sentimental attachment to one's roots was a common trait in the hay-days of Caelondia.

* * *

The Kid wakes up. It's past his birth, past his infancy, past his days in school. Those days didn't last long anyway, and the Kid thinks good riddance to them. Much more distressing is that it's past the point where his mother died - specifically, it's the last day of his first tour on the Rippling Walls. The Kid thinks about how he can make the Marshals proud and earn a badge for himself the right way, but the thought is so alien that it is locked away immediately.

The shift finishes without excitement, but the Kid goes on to make the day memorable anyway when he signs up for a second tour. The Masons around him look condescendingly amused as he talks to the recruiter. His speech carries the tone of someone ordering a refill for their drink - the Kid is perfectly familiar with the motions of smashing beasts and enduring the elements in both incarnations. His quiet confidence deflects the derision of the other Masons effortlessly, commanding grudging respect as he enrols for five more years of hard labour. The Kid walks away a little thankful that they didn't comment on his hair. Such would be just another reminder of what happened to his mother and the lagoon of rage boiling underneath at the mysterious party responsible for ferreting away the money he sent home. 

He turns up for work the next day, oblivious to the reactions of everyone around him at "history being made". History has already been made once, and the Kid is just rewriting a lost story. Another alien thought, but this one is not dismissed as easily. Time crawls on and the Kid earns the trust of the Marshals again, beginning to scout out past the Rippling Walls. The point where the Calamity originally happened is almost at hand and the foreign thoughts intrude on his dreams until they feel more like memories. His perception seems to slow as he impossible bears down on him - that he has succeeded in transcending the barrier of time - and he accepts it, accepts that he feels like he is puppeteering his own body. The sensation fades and the only thing left to do is check for the other survivors. Perhaps they, too, are subject to the echoes of a future that will never happen.

* * *

Rucks does most of the legwork toward defusing the onset of the Calamity, his privileged position making him the only member of the ragtag group with the right clearance. He contemplates the hysteria that might break out if the common folk learn how close they are coming to embracing ash. The pretext for war between the Caelondians and Ura needs to end now.

Venn is brilliant, moreso even than Rucks, so Rucks knows to entrust his secrets to him without fear of consequence. The man had done his duty so far after all, even despite the stress of trying to protect his innocent daughter in a place surrounded on all sides by toxic racism. Even after suffering a grave insult from a local who had tried to lead his little girl astray and waylay him with accusations of treachery. It's no wonder he was on the verge of giving into the hatred. After dealing with Zulf's similarly stress-induced outburst in the past, Rucks is much more prepared to talk Venn down now, having reconciled his different selves faster than The Kid. A few little kindnesses between the two Mancers forges a bond of understanding, though this friendship sadly cannot last long.

The two Mancers conspire to prevent the Calamity project from taking off. It begins with temporary solutions like engineering staff shortages in the Mender's hospitals and clinics (although never when lives are at risk) to prompt an investigation and divert resources and attention. Rucks divulges the past(?) to Venn piecemeal, and the Ura Mancer is stricken with horror. They might be able to stop the Calamity this time, but momentary peace will not fool them into thinking there is no urgency at all. In order to become a martyr for the peace-seeking Ura, Venn orchestrates his own assassination. The deed is carried out by a Graver who, following orders from his victim, strikes him in the back with a war machete pilfered from an Ura invader. Venn thinks it is an appropriate demise. Then he thinks about his daughter and the time they spent together. Then he thinks about nothing at all.

The Graver disposes of the body in Grady Incinerator at the dead of night and throws himself in afterwards, to keep his honour and simplify the cleanup. No evidence is left save for the fact that the fuel keeps those fires burning longer than the day's disposal record would suggest, as seen by the first workers to arrive there the following morning. Blackmailed by associates of the Graver assassin, the coroner draws attention to this observation in the report and officially concludes that, by whatever mechanism, the killer had also died. The killer's race is never disclosed, averting a wave of xenophobic fervour. Venn was the project manager of the Calamity device and, with his passing, it was promptly discontinued amidst arguments between the frustrated Mancers. Rucks keeps the fact that he also knew how to complete the device to himself (for one thing, he only pieced it together in the aftermath) and discreetly disposes of the documents accrued during the project.

Quite without intervention, the rumour spreads that the kill was an isolated incident by a Caelondian partisan who objected to giving such authority to an Ura. Rucks helps it spread. Spooked by the idea of violence breaking out again, a fair number of Caelondians become Ura apologists, and relations improve.

* * *

Zulf is once again a man engaged, the proposal carried out in just as traditional as before. His past continues to haunt him, but with the help of his significant other, he gets over it, step by step. She is just as beautiful as he remembers, and her kindness is appreciated much more now than before.

Having his prior memories doesn't change much in practical terms, but one thing it does do is remind him of the others - of how the Kid grabbed his broken body and hauled him off to the safety of the Bastion through rains of arrows and darts, and how Zia tended to his injuries afterward, despite that Zulf had never done them any favours. Quite the opposite, in fact - Zia and the Kid were collateral for Zulf's rage towards Rucks and the other Caelondian Mancers. In this way, Zulf thinks, Zia, the Kid and the missionary that raised him are alike. Zulf did not learn forgiveness before, but now, he realises that a quest for peace demands that skill. The thought occurs to Zulf that the Kid and Zia should meet his fiancee, and he contacts them to make the arrangements. He also wonders how Rucks is doing, content now to admit that the two are similar just as they are different.

* * *

Zia mourns her father's passing, having a better understanding of the catastrophic mess leading up to it, but she is gripped by the desire to avoid becoming mired in grief. The Calamity took many precious people from their families, so Zia is almost entirely unremarkable in this respect. Zia never felt like Caelondia was home before, and hadn't made much of an effort to seek employment. This time, she has a plan. The Ura never had a clear-cut caste system, instead encouraging individuals to develop whatever skills they wanted, even if it didn't best serve the community. Zia learned to sing, learned to cook, learned to heal a little as well. She takes the last one and makes a career out of it, becoming an apprentice to the Menders, who are always happy to have someone help pick up the slack.

Meeting Zulf's fiancee is just the pick-me-up she needs, but she thinks to herself that boys will be boys - Zulf and the Kid have entirely forgotten to formulate an excuse as to why two people who had apparently never met were suddenly friends, judging by Maira's* confused expression. Zia devises this magic bullet. She tells Maira that she is one of Zulf's contacts as another Ura in the city. She adds that Zulf and the Kid met during one of the Rippling Walls' latest shifts and hit it off straight away. Zia says that the Kid was busy convalescing during the engagement celebration - not exactly a lie, the Kid lost a lot of blood in day-to-day life. Maira believes it after a little hesitation and the get-together proceeds as planned.

Winter is on approach, and the dropping temperature makes it the perfect time for Zia to bust out her vineapple chowder, served with black rye to wash it down. The Kid is left catatonic by the flavour, far more vivid than Zia had served it back at the Bastion, where the ingredients were sparse and substandard. Maira takes note of the fact that Zia's expression lingers a little too long on the Kid for future reference.

* * *

The Kid finishes his second tour. The Marshals trusted him to scout farther than any other person on the Rippling Walls, and he sees that trust put into action when they formally issue him his badge. The musket is cool, too, although he doesn't think he'll ever get accustomed to the kick of the weapon, like an ornery mule. The Kid puts in a good enough showing that he is entrusted to test cutting-edge military technology. Seeing the Calamity cannon again is a reality check, but this one is a lot safer than the one Rucks cobbled together in the other timeline and the Kid begins to enjoy the moments he can get his hands on it.

Although he officially retires as a Mancer and takes up writing books, it's an open secret that Rucks continues to tinker with some of his old Mancer toys. Even in his ripe old age, Rucks excels as an author and a scientist, lifting some of the burden of his past mistakes every time he churns out a new masterpiece.

Zulf and Maira tie the knot. Everything is almost oppressively calm at this point. With no negotiations to take care of, Zulf finds himself losing stimulation until he is entrusted to translate several important documents into the Ura tongue. The taboo - use of the Ura language by foreigners - lifts, and Zulf almost takes back what he thought about his old responsibilities when he becomes a teacher. Almost.

Zia eventually reaches amongst the highest ranks of the Menders, but she still finds time to learn a few more things about the Ura culture from Zulf. Zia and the Kid begin their courtship in earnest, and the former is made aware of their progress when the latter finally gives his name, an heirloom from his deceased mother.

The four occasionally forget that things weren't always like this, because this - their second life - fits like a new skin.


	2. Evacuation

"The Bastion does have another function, strictly speaking. If ever the monument blew out, and we couldn't repair it, we could still...evacuate. First we'd round up as many folks as we could carry. Next, we'd detonate the cores, and we'd take off...away from here. Of course that would mean no going back. Ever. But then again, that way all of us could leave the City. Together."

-Rucks, on evacuation.

* * *

A wise man once said that the only good thing that came out of the past was history. Having the opportunity to correct one's past mistakes is an old and tempting dream, but there is no guarantee that it could survive reality even given the means to go back in time. Such an attempt could simply fail outright, or worse still create graver mistakes and cause more suffering.

Rucks held onto this dream in spite of understanding it's frailty, but Zia had her eyes set firmly on the future. All of her best memories were made after the calamity. Although it is a selfish desire, she wants to jump in and make the decision right now for fear of being turned aside after getting so close to choosing the future. She understands that the Kid has earned the right to decide, just like he decided to take Zulf along for the ride. Looks like the Kid had a heart, as little as his face showed it.

The Kid makes that decision, throwing the lever with a mighty heave, and the noise of the Bastion responding sounds like the world being crushed and beaten into shape.

Thrown into the air atop a violent explosion, the Bastion gradually loses it's momentum until it hovers in place and is ready to be piloted away to new pastures.

* * *

Flying like this was strange - almost as strange as not fighting something for once. The skyways served as a primer, but the scale was so different that they felt more like a device for making an assisted leap than a form of transport in their own right. Having had more than one awkward landing, the Kid decided that different wasn't necessarily bad. Seeing the ground beneath him surrounded by clouds was disturbing, though, and he took great pains to avoid walking right next to the end for fear of becoming a red splatter in uncharted territory.

Rucks had adapted to the Kid's choice with remarkable grace, as though believing it was the only logical course of events in hindsight. Distracted by wrestling with the controls of this behemoth that he had helped design, he treated the journey ahead with the equanimity of a statue.

Zulf was still comatose - it had only been two days since his brutal beatdown at the hands of the Tazal Terminal's disgruntled remnants - so he wasn't available for comment.

Alone amongst the Bastion's crew, Zia fully and genuinely appreciated the situation. Living mostly alone in a den which was surrounded on all sides by racist people who believed that Ura should not be seen or heard had conditioned Zia to living amidst stale air. She quickly made a habit of climbing atop the Bastion's buildings to feel the wind blow over her face. Zia simply enjoyed the novelty of feeling free.

* * *

After three more days of regular health tonics and Bastion bourbon, Zulf was finally conscious and mobile. It would be a while yet before he was fully functional, but the gentleman in him insisted on being useful. Zulf thus took on the role of handyman, carrying out odd jobs such as helping Zia with cooking, cleaning or caring for the small menagerie of pets the Kid had managed to accrue. Sometimes, the pecker was too loud, the anklegator was too hungry and the bull was too angry (Zulf didn't have any problems with the squirt, which had been living with this ragtag team the longest and earned some measure of prestige for it), but Zulf certainly didn't complain about those being his greatest concerns.

In theory, Zulf had plenty of time to find a quiet place and reflect on how things turned out and what he would do if - _when_ \- they found a civilisation next to which they could touch down. Perhaps those people would be interested in learning about the Ura and Caelondian's history and culture? Perhaps they'd have some strong drinks for him to down? Zulf didn't like to admit it aloud for fear of ruining his professional esteem (that is, ruin it further than his smoking already had), but he'd taken to the bottle quickly after things had transpired.

In practice, though, whenever the Kid and Zia weren't busy, they tended to rope him into things. Sometimes it was makeshift games like trying to catch the aforementioned squirt, something Rucks rather enjoyed spectating with a bottle of lifewine to hand. Sometimes they talked about the stories behind the mementos they found, making it up where they didn't know the details. That led into the much more serious conversation about their lives before the calamity, which sounded suspiciously like a phantom voice in Who Knows Where.

"Hey, Zulf! Storytelling time if you want to come!" Zia declared.

"I'll come in a bit!" Zulf responded, but the Kid would be having none of it. He walked in, all business, and practically dragged Zulf toward their spot near the monument. Zulf resigned himself, having learned his lesson about resisting the Kid.

* * *

"Zulf, I believe it's your turn."

"Okay, here goes..." The story was headed off at the pass as the Bastion came slowly to a stop, accompanied by a significant announcement from their captain:

"Our first and last stop! The Motherland!" The Kid dashed to the edge of the Bastion in a flash, while Zulf stood stunned as the world of possibility seemed to truly break through to him. Sighing fondly, Zia nudged Zulf's shoulder and the two went groundside, followed shortly after by Rucks. The trio picked the Kid out of the dirt after his fall, caution having clearly gone once they stopped flying.

"I guess it is funny, this time." Rucks murmured to himself, then after a brief pause to take a breath, he announced with tremendous weight: "And just like that, we found ourselves on ancestral ground."

"I can't believe we crossed the sea that fast!" Zia said

"Never doubt the power of the world's memory." Rucks replied, eager to act like a cryptic informant for what might very well be the last time. None of them were experts in this familiar and yet completely alien land. The party scoured the horizon and found a cluster of houses on the horizon, beckoning their pets to follow as they approached.

"HELLO?" Zia shouted, straining to be heard. Zulf spotted a group of silhouettes moving in response to the sound. The silhouettes began to come closer until their identities as Motherland natives became obvious. Meeting face-to-face, the natives and migrants struggled to start the exchange. Coming to some kind of conclusion, Rucks gestured for the natives to look at the Bastion.

"Pretty grand, ain't it? You ever heard of a land called Caelondia?" Their reactions indicated that, no, they hadn't.


End file.
